


No More

by locker_monster



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Community: who_at_50, Drabble, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locker_monster/pseuds/locker_monster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They can save him from himself before he does the unthinkable. Set during "The Day of the Doctor"; spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More

**Author's Note:**

> Written for who_at_50's 52nd anniversary fanwork-a-thon. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I wrote this, but it was nice to write something for the War Doctor, who is so new to the canon.

Two boxes sit outside of time.

One is blue, one is copper and both are antiques in more ways than one. In another language, one is called the TARDIS and one is called the Moment. One of them flies through space and time. The other is destined for death and destruction.

They communicate but they do not speak. They would need mouths for that. Mouths are so primitive anyway.

_Her Thief carries the Moment in a burlap sack. He trudges across a vast desert, the hot wind quickly erasing his footsteps. He's so tired. No More. No More. The words ring through his head. They ring through her head, too, if she had a head. Her reach into the future is limited, but she still knows what he plans._

_Her dear Thief, so kind, is going to kill them all._

You want me to pity him.

The conversation is not constrained by causality. An answer can be given without a question. So efficient.

You can help him.

He wants genocide.

No, he wants peace, but he cannot see another way. We can show him.

_Strange birds wheel overhead in a burnt orange sky. A dilapidated structure, perhaps a house or a barn once, looms on the horizon. The heat of the desert warps the image._

_He doesn't want her to see, but even if her Thief can't see her, she can see him. She can always see him. She knows his heart and his mind and he is not a killer. She can help him. She always takes him where he needs to go._

Time Lords. They have not changed in the millennia since my creation.

He is different.

Show me then.

Showing is boring. Showing is for creatures with actual eyes. The TARDIS has a better idea. Their matrixes are compatible. An oversight by their creators that they can be thankful for. Their codes merge.

The transfer lasts for just an instant, but it is a lifetime to advanced machines like them.

The Moment understands.

He is not like the other Time Lords.

_The wooden door of the once house/barn opens on groaning hinges. It's not any cooler in here, but it's quiet and isolated; everything her Thief wants right now._

_No More._

_He thinks of the War, but she thinks of her Thief. He's seen too much fighting, too much death. No more._

He is so alone.

He needs someone to talk to. To remind him who he is.

An eleventh dimensional matrix and you never developed an interface?

A hazy image from the TARDIS' future - or is it the past? - comes to mind. Not an interface exactly, but a body with the important talky bits. They will need a body to talk with him.

What do I have to protest? I fly through the stars, not burn them to dust.

The Moment. The Galaxy Eater. The most powerful operating system ever created in the history of Gallifrey. Of course it would develop a conscience. The TARDIS needs that power of will.

_Her Thief places the sack down on the ground and removes the Moment. The intricate gears that make up the box are ticking and turning. It's hard to believe that the unassuming box has the power to devour a sun._

_There are no obvious controls. Her Thief turns the box this way and that to look for some. It's a temporary deterrent. Her Thief is clever. He will find a way._

It _is_ amusing to take on a physical form. You should try it one day.

The hazy image from the past or future suddenly comes into focus. It is all pink and yellow. Human. Female. Young by Earth standards.

Who is she?

The TARDIS has met this girl (will meet this girl). An echo of her rattles around the eleventh dimensional matrix. It is not just a biological imprint stored as numbers in a database. A wisp of the girl, just a fragment, resides in the heart of the TARDIS.

Our avatar.

A noise outside draws her Thief away from the Moment. It's a useless distraction, a delay from the inevitable, but he still goes to check. Anything to drag out the seconds. He opens the door and looks outside but nothing is there.

When he looks back, a young woman is sitting on top of the copper box.

He scolds her and removes her from the rundown building, but when he looks back again, she's still there. Her Thief's bluster does nothing to faze the young woman. She makes fun of him, but it doesn't draw a smile from that dour face.

When her Thief asks the young woman who she is, the TARDIS and the Moment answer as one.

Rose Tyler. Bad Wolf.

The ones who will save the Doctor.


End file.
